


The Extended Run

by donutsweeper



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Without a Clue (1988)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:57:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After achieving rave reviews from critics near and far, Reginald Kincaid continues his role as Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Extended Run

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/gifts).



> A Yuletide treat for Nary, because how could anyone resist such a perfect "Without a Clue" prompt request?
> 
> Many thanks to the wonderful finch_(afinch) for the beta.

The current case had taken Watson, and therefore also Kincaid, to the docks long after the gaslights had been lit. Watson located their quarry, a hired thug by the name of Caruthers, with little difficulty. Unfortunately due to a crate being knocked over - something that was by no means Kincaid's fault, he'd barely touched it - Caruthers spotted them. The chase led them to a disused warehouse and then had come to an abrupt end when Watson had managed to grab Caruthers. The two of them scuffled briefly before both men tumbled over a railing and down a flight of half collapsed stairs. 

By the time Kincaid had found a safe way down Caruthers had disappeared and Watson was pulling himself to his feet. Kincaid didn't have to be as overly observant as Sherlock Holmes to see that Watson was hurt, what with the way he was swaying and barely putting any weight on his left foot and all.

"That's it," Kincaid declared. "We're done for tonight."

"The case is not over," Watson insisted as he hobbled past Kincaid, using the wall to balance himself. "We should continue on."

Kincaid shook his head. "The case may not be over, but Caruthers could have gone anywhere and you are injured."

"I could-"

"What, track him in this fog? With you limping about like a horse that's thrown a shoe? No. Not going to happen, old boy."

"It's just a twisted ankle. I will be fine after a moment's rest. Really, Holmes, you are being ridiculous," Watson protested, garnering a smile from Kincaid for the use of the name, but he quickly tamped it down.

"Ridiculous? Is the best you can do? I'm insulted." Kincaid grabbed Watson's arm and swung it over his shoulder, taking as much of the other man's weight as he thought would be accepted. "Not preposterous, unreasonable or asinine? Or, perhaps, daft, absurd or even moronic? Ridiculous. Really, Watson, are you addled from that tumble down the stairs?"

"Ridiculous is a perfectly fine word choice all things considered. And, I did not 'tumble.' I was pushed down those stairs," Watson protested, although did not protest the assistance. "I'll have you notice, I kept hold of Caruthers and took him down with me."

"That is true, Watson. Good job. Of course, you then let him go, but that's just a minor quibble."

The return to Baker Street was not an easy one. Between Watson's dishevelment and the time of night there was not a hansom to be hired so they slowly, laboriously made their way back home over the better part of the next two hours. 

"Mrs Hudson," Kincaid cried as he pushed the door open, sending it banging against the wall. "Mrs Hudson!"

"What is it? Do you have any idea the time of... Oh! Doctor Watson!" Mrs Hudson's protest at her tenants' late intrusion came to an abrupt stop when she saw that the doctor was being supported by Kincaid. "Oh, you poor dear. What happened? Are you all right?"

"It was a minor fall. It's nothing. Once I wrap my ankle and change we'll be heading out again." He paused for a moment before adding, "I am fine, Mrs Hudson," a declaration that was belied by both the ragged breathing and pained grimace he failed to hide as he attempted to climb the first step to their rooms.

"Yes, yes. You're fine, of course you're fine. It's obvious, isn't it, Mrs Hudson? What do you say we get you upstairs and then you can decide if you really want us to go out again tonight."

Mrs Hudson harrumphed from the bottom of the stairs as she watched Kincaid and Watson slowly make their way up step by step. "I'll put on some tea," she said with that kind of finality of hers that suggested a threat of some unspecified nature if her tenants were not to be found in residence when she brought it up. 

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson," Kincaid replied automatically. Then, addressing Watson, he said, "You do know she is going to fuss over you mercilessly once she's done preparing that tea, don't you?"

"Yes, thank you, I am aware." 

After managing to manoeuvre them up the stairs, Kincaid shouldered open the door and led Watson to the settee. "Slowly, old boy," he cautioned as Watson eased himself down. "Now what can I do to help?"

"I am sure that I can manage just fine on my own," Watson said, snippily. 

"While that is true under most circumstances, I am here. While I may not be your equal in any way that matters, I, at least, am mobile while you, at present, are not."

Some of the perpetual stiffness slipped out of his posture as Watson leant forward and began unlacing the shoe on his injured leg. "If you could fetch my bag from my room whilst I get this blasted boot off?"

Glad to have been assigned even such a simple task, Kincaid flew into Watson's room and began tearing it apart in his search for Watson's doctor's bag. At the beginning of their acquaintance Watson had taken to hiding it due to an unfortunately not exaggerated fear that Kincaid might either partake of some of the medicines within or sell some, but that was long ago. Still, he'd rummaged through the closet unsuccessfully for several minutes before Watson called out, "it's under the bed."

Throwing a blanket, three journals and a pair of old slippers out of the way, Kincaid quickly unearthed the well worn bag and pulled it out shouting, "Aha! Got it!" as he rushed back to the sitting room with it in hand. While he'd been away Watson had managed to unlace and remove his boot, revealing a purpling ankle, already beginning to swell.

Uncertain what to do after handing over the bag, Kincaid was saved from blundering about aimlessly into the minefield of asking after Watson's health by a thundering on the stairs. "That'll be your Irregulars, no doubt," he said as he moved to the door to let them in. "Although why those little hooligans are still up and about at this time of night..."

"We heard about the Doc, of course," Wiggins said by way of greeting once the door was open. "But it's just me an' Billy. Archie and the others are sleeping, but we's could wake 'em up if you need 'em!"

"No, that won't be necessary, boys." Having finished a quick wrapping of his ankle, Watson waved the Irregulars inside.

Billy and Wiggins brushed past Kincaid and walked around the settee, getting a better look at Watson as they did so. "Cor, Doc, you look a right mess now, don't you?" Wiggins shook his head, exhaling sharply.

"I'll be fine in a few days, but until then I am afraid Caruthers is still on the loose, as are the men he works for, so I need you boys to be extra careful and even more observant than usual." He moved, trying to reach his money so he could give the boys their usual fee, but paled alarmingly as he shifted.

"I've got it, Watson. You should be moving as little as possible." Kincaid dug into his own pocket and pulled out a handful of coppers. "Pass these out among the boys tomorrow, make sure they know what Watson needs them to be keeping their eyes on, all right?" He held onto the money for a moment, eying the boys until they both nodded and then dropped the coins into Wiggins' outstretched hand.

"We won't let you down, Doc!" Wiggins shouted as he took off, practically running over Kincaid in his rush to leave, Billy right behind him. 

"There are times I am convinced that those Irregulars of yours are part elephant," Kincaid declared as he went to shut the door.

"Ours," Watson corrected.

"Hmmm, what?" Kincaid asked, distractedly patting his pockets as he noticed that his watch chain was not hanging empty. 

"The Irregulars. They are no longer solely mine, but rather _ours_." Watson gestured to Kincaid's watch, still attached to the chain despite Wiggins' opportunity to have taken it. "You're no longer an actor merely playing a role and you may not truly be Holmes, you are no longer a hindrance to his work, my work. If anything, you are... a help. Wiggins and the boys can see that and they respect you for it."

Kincaid heard what Watson was saying and, perhaps, not saying, but still. "He didn't take my watch." 

"No, no he didn't."

"I am a help?"

Watson smiled. "Of a sort. Now that would be Mrs Hudson on the stairs. Do be a good chap and get the door for her, if you don't mind?"

"Yes, of course," Kincaid opened the door just as Mrs Hudson reached the top step. "I wouldn't mind at all."


End file.
